


Leniency

by Bitchmysaladispeople



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cult is okay?, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Catholic Guilt, Childhood Trauma, Eventual Smut, F/M, It's Not Good, Joseph is bad at not being creepy unfortunately, OC is bad at emotions, Or Is It?, Porn What Porn, Referenced Child Abuse, Slow Burn, bad, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 05:21:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18514741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitchmysaladispeople/pseuds/Bitchmysaladispeople
Summary: Eden's Gate is definitely many things. A family-owned doomsday cult, an obsessively pious group, and for some, a beacon of hope. Eden's Gate may or may not be many other things, including completely wrong, strange, and incredibly, inescapably dangerous.Evangeline Jones didn't listen to the gossip. She believed the Father, and tried her best to love him. The Father, knowing full well that she's his other half, sees this, and only wishes she'd try to love him differently.(Semi AU featuring my OC, Evangeline Jones, slowburn foreboding romance with the top Cult Man. Definitely Pre-Game)





	1. Marked

**Author's Note:**

> This is a glorified self-insert, and it can be mostly read as an almost-fix-it, where everyone's greasy fave just...gets with...a normal woman, but with issues. Take a shot every time the OC doesn't seem to want to be there.

Red lips cocked with a little grin, collarbones slick with sweat, laugh ringing clear and loud. She stood against a fence, leaning her elbows on it, conversation animated, eyes bright.

She was a favorite of John’s--John, who left his side to greet her, and received a handshake-turned-hug for his trouble--and Jacob always welcomed her presence in the mountains. Faith adored her, always put bliss flowers in her hair even knowing she’d just take them out and give them back. Joseph...Joseph tried his best to stay away from her. The _Lust_ scars he’d been marked with seemed to itch when he saw her--an inexplicable draw. She’d been with them for...nearly two years, at least, that’s as far as he remembered. When they first came to Hope, she came to listen. He’d been busy, but he saw Jacob talking to her, and that had made the memory stick. Jacob wasn’t often the one talking to people.

He knew a fair amount about her, all secondhand. In the project, she functioned almost administratively, coordinating repairs and mechanic work, a talented hand at it herself. She’d been in the Marines for four years doing the same. Jacob confessed that he wished she were open to becoming a soldier, but she was clear about the fact that she had no intention of picking up another gun until she had to. If he saw it as a weakness, he must’ve excused it.

John was frequently terse with her, and mostly, as far as Joseph knew, due to the fact that she didn’t let him get away with much. That was certainly a quality he could admire.

She was holding John at an arm’s length--by her expression, _getting a good look at him._ Joseph looked away, sighing, softly. His attempts to push his odd fixation from his mind weren’t respected, in the end, when John returned.  
  
“Well, Joseph. You’ve just been inadvertently invited to dinner.” He tipped his head to the side, and John’s smile grew wicked. “She said _bring_ _the whole family._ It’d be rude not to do as asked.”

“I don’t know that that’s the best idea, John.”  
  
Because, of course, to help him in his efforts to avoid her, Evangeline-Vincent Rosemary Jones wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. She sat in the back, at church, smiled but never spoke, always moving on to someone new. John would always wave it off, attribute it to the Catholic upbringing she was so tight-lipped about. He wasn’t listening, though, didn’t care.

“Six sharp.”  
  
__

Evangeline Jones lived in a cabin in the woods. It was little more than a small construction, a rickety porch, and a sprawling garden, but there was something earnestly unbelievable about it. Shining pinwheels spun, playful sentinels over the tomatoes and cucumbers, tucked into the lattice supporting an overgrown blackberry bush. It was nearly surreal, chipped garden accessories, sun-bleached solar butterflies staked into the ground. The front door was open, the lights were on in the house, the sun was starting to set.

Jacob was already there, sitting on a lawn chair on the porch. There was music playing, not theirs--something old, something he didn't quite recognize, yet still felt familiar with. None of the 'naughty music' she'd alluded to in her shop.

“Not even helping our hostess?” John questioned, as they approached. Jacob grunted.

“I brought the meat. At least I’m not banned from the kitchen.”

John scoffed, flopping into the chair beside his brother. “Vince! We made it!”  
  
“We?! Are we talking about you and or ego, or--” Her voice came closer, and then cut off entirely when she entered the doorframe, drying her hands, and saw that Joseph was the ‘we’. “Hello, Father.” She glanced over at John. “I wish you’d of mentioned.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Vince,” he raised his hands in mock surrender, “he invited himself at the last second.”  
  
“I highly doubt that. Come help me.”  
  
“What happened to--”  
  
“The ban is still in place, but now there’s more to do, I could use a hand. I’d invite Jacob if he weren’t _above_ it.”  
  
“And Joseph?”  
  
“He’s a guest.”  
  
“What am I?”  
  
“You’re on thin ice, is what you are. Get your ass in there and start peeling potatoes. Father, can I get you something to drink? What would you like?”  
  
“I--whatever you have will more than suffice, thank you.”  
  
She nodded, and then looked down at the eldest Seed. “Get your brother a sweet tea, would you? I’m busy.”  
  
John laughed--a genuine laugh--as he ducked into the house. She spared Joseph one last look. “Please, make yourself at home. Dinner shouldn’t be much longer.”  
  
He nodded, and she followed John. Jacob got him a glass of tea, and he sat on the porch, still unsure as to of how he’d gotten roped into this--and how she’d managed to make her forest retreat so...he couldn’t even explain it. He felt at home, the smell of dinner rising as the sun went down.

The interior was no different. Mismatched furniture, suncatchers and dreamcatchers and wide, wide windows--candles on the wooden table, covered with food. The house smelled vaguely of incense, but mostly, of fresh air and dinner, which looked incredible. She shed her apron, revealing nothing more than jeans and a t-shirt.

“It’s always good to have food and company,” she said, once everyone had dished up family-style, venison and green beans and mashed potatoes with white gravy. She raised her glass of tea, and, practiced, John clinked his glass against hers.

“To uninvited guests?”  
  
“No such thing as an uninvited guest in a proper home,” she seemed to remind. “Unexpected ones, sure, but never uninvited ones.”  
  
“What, then?”  
  
“We don’t have to toast every time.”  
  
“Why break tradition?”  
  
She rolled her eyes, licked her bottom lip, and then half-smiled. “To you, somehow managing to cut yourself when I didn’t give you anything sharp.”  
  
Jacob said cheers, and then started eating. She laughed, and then, her eyes found Joseph’s across the table.

“Father, would you care to say grace?”

Jacob didn’t stop eating, but he took John’s hand, John took hers, and they looked down as he thanked the lord--and their hostess--for the beautiful bounty before them.

  
She asked John about ‘things in the valley’, and they had a family dinner.

__

“I swear, you jumped right out of the sixties. Who still serves ‘after-dinner coffee’?”

She paused, about to pour John a cup. “I’m sorry, did you not want coffee?”  
  
“No, I mean...yes I’d like some, but--”  
  
“Oh, then maybe you should stop bitching about it.” She poured for him, and then shifted over to Joseph, who held his cup up and thanked her. “No problem. Jacob, you really don’t have to--”  
  
He waved her off from his place in the kitchen and subsequently flung soapy water everywhere. She let out a sigh, and left the pot by his empty cup, taking her own seat.

  
“Coffee after dinner is the best excuse to catch up,” she explained, “I do it to see how you are, and to make sure you don’t fall asleep driving home. But yes, my grandma did teach me to do it.”

“You’re a good hostess, if nothing else. Though you put on a few airs for Joseph.”  
  
“Oh,” she said, in a chastising way, but she didn’t correct him. “I haven’t had guests in a while, is all.”  
  
“Well, everyone’s afraid of you.”  
  
“Damn straight.”  
  
“At least you’re being honest. I worry about you, alone, out here.”  
  
“I’ve been alone for a long time. Out here, out there--I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.”  
  
“Still. If you showed me your mark, I could keep an eye out.” She rolled her eyes, dropping a spoonful of sugar into her cup and leaning back to stir it. “I mean it, Vince.”  
  
“Whatever will be, will be. Simple as that.”  
  
“He helps those who help themselves.”  
  
“When you take fate into your own hands, it’s pride.”  
  
“Exactly. So put it in mine. If you found your soulmate--started having children--you’d finally have someone. You could build a family.”  
  
“Who says I’m interested in that?” She raised a brow. “I serve God, I garden, and I do what I want. Why do I need to seek out something I don’t even want? Really, I think it’s a mercy that I haven’t found whoever it is, and I definitely don’t want to spit on that. And--I’m twenty-four. They’re either on another continent or they’re dead, most likely.”  
  
“Joseph’s thirty-four,” he pointed out. “Is his soulmate….on another continent? Or dead?”  
  
“I just...you’d think I’d feel that pull. That desire to...yes, find them, please, I’m lost without them. But I don’t. That must mean something, right? Maybe I’m just supposed to be here, and focus on this.”  
  
“There’s nothing wrong with that. But the fact that you’re jaded to the concept doesn’t mean you don’t have a soulmate. It’s selfish not to seek them out for the end.”

Her jaw ticked, slightly, and she leveled him with an even gaze. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”  
  
“He’s not gonna let it go, Jones. If he pops up, I promise to kick his ass if he tries to get into your house.” Jacob provided his opinion from the kitchen, and her jaw only tensed further.

“Honestly, John, it isn’t your business. You know how I feel about this.”  
  
“I know. You were raised believing you would have to _surrender your life_ to this person--but that simply isn’t the case. Your fortune can only grow--and yet you insist on depriving someone else of their other half.”  
  
“He’s right, child,” Joseph said, softly. “It’s only natural to reject the unknown. He would not tie you to someone who couldn’t make you happy. Even if you feel as though you’d be better off alone. John knows many people’s soulmarks, mine included. Are you worried that he would find them, or that they would be a sinner?” Her gaze flitted away, and he smiled. “I understand. The idea that whoever owns the other half of your soul doesn’t believe...it’s challenging, I know. But if they do find their way to us, lost, they’ll need your help.”  
  
“There, now.” John smiled, pleased. “Enough to convince you?”  
  
She was quiet, for a moment, and then sighed, closing her eyes. “Fine,” she said, at length.

“Yes?”  
  
“ _Yes_ .”  
He clapped his hands together and stood. “Excuse me?”  
  
“No time like the present, hmm?”  
  
“Finish your coffee, alright? I’ll stop by the ranch in a few days, and show you then. I’m not wearing the right shirt. But I will show you. You’re both right. Father, _you’re_ right. It’s not...right to pretend it’s impossible.”  
  
He nodded. “I’m proud of you, Evangeline. It takes a strong will to overcome one’s fears.”

She nodded in return, putting another spoonful of sugar into her coffee.

She saw them to the door, not long after, thanking them for coming, and promising John that she’d come over the next time she had a chance, and he could add her mark to his catalog.

\--

John was as rattled as he’d sounded on the phone when Joseph arrived at the ranch--brow furrowed, uncertain as to of what had caused his brother such distress.

“ _Finally_ ,” he sighed, urging him in. “I need to see your mark.”  
  
Joseph froze, eyes wide. “Do you--”  
  
“I need to see your mark, Joseph, please.”

So, he made his way to the living room, shucking his vest as he went, beginning the process of unbuttoning his shirt. Among his tattoos and scars, the mark was easy to miss--a small compass star, the only direction marked being north, by a capital N in cursive script. John zeroed in on it like a hawk, and let out a shuddering breath, before scrambling at the papers on the coffee table. He came up, victorious, with a Polaroid picture, and handed it to Joseph.  
That same mark, on pale skin. He smiled, overjoyed, and looked up at her brother. “Where are they?”  
  
“I sent her home. I didn’t tell her. I--you have to be the one to tell her. I don’t…”  
  
“Who, John?”

His younger brother froze, a blend of worry and trepidation on his face. “It’s...it’s Evangeline, Joseph.”  
  
It took a moment, for the words to sink in, and when they did, he let out a sigh of relief.  
She was scared. She wouldn’t react well. She didn’t _want_ him. Still, he smiled. He hadn’t been unduly tempted--it was natural. Not only that, but he had proved that he was capable of abstaining, and he had been rewarded. He could’ve laughed--if he had only approached her...how foolish he’d been.

Joseph pulled John, still on the verge of pulling his hair out, into an embrace. “Thank you, brother,” he said, pushing their foreheads together. John let out a shaky sigh of relief, eyes falling closed.

\--

 _I Got Spurs_ was playing loud and bright in the garage when Joseph entered. It was a rather large hanger in Fall’s End--a shop open to Eden’s Gate and the townspeople alike, which was a policy Evangeline insisted on. John never liked it, but Joseph did. It was inclusive and normalized the project to everyone else, who couldn’t argue with her skill, or the skill of her team. A few non-members cast him wary looks when he entered, but he found a familiar face, and asked where he could find her. The young man was all too happy to show him the way.

She was in another section of the garage, half her body underneath a truck.

“Appreciate this, Jones,” Nick Rye, leaning on a workbench nearby, said, with a sigh. “The other shop didn’t have the part.”  
  
“It’s an old truck,” she empathized, still underneath.

“Hey, no offense, but what’s with the shitty music?”  
  
“It’s not shitty. It’s inclusive.”  
  
“You’re telling me you don’t listen to any _naughty_ music under the regime?”  
  
“It’s not a regime. It’s discouraged, most people don’t.”  
  
“But you?”  
  
“Of course I listen to naughty music, Nick. I’d go insane otherwise.”  
  
“What’re you gonna do when the end comes? In the bunkers?”  
  
“Headphones.”

He snorted, crossing his arms. “Can’t believe how _normal_ you are.”  
  
“It’s just like any religion, right? Some people are weird about it, that’s just how it is.”

Nick rolled his eyes, and caught sight of Joseph, who’d been waiting for a pause in the conversation. He opened his mouth, paused, and then looked back at her, still ignorant under his truck.

“Well, what about that Father guy, then? What’s his deal?”

“You just answered your own question. He’s the Father. I’m going to let you in on a secret--no man of God has ever, one single time, _ever_ , not been at least a little unsettling. It comes with the territory. Either it comes with the territory or they teach it in seminary school.”

“So you agree, he’s creepy?”  
  
“I guess, but we’re all creepy when we’re passionate about something. And if you’re a prophet, I imagine you don’t walk around going _um, excuse me, do you have a sec_? We’re lucky he doesn’t walk around grabbing people by the collar going-- _god’s fucking sick of your shit, asshole, he just told me_. But--stop laughing--I maintain, all religious men have that way about them. Even Jerome, sometimes. And do you know why that is?”  
  
“That class in seminary school?”  
  
“No. It’s the big secret--God is terrifying. In every book out there, He’s terrifying.”  
  
“Cause of his wrath?”  
  
“Yeah. And His love, too. People don’t want to die, but they also don’t want to be loved. I think, at least. So you have these men trying to impart the most horrifying piece of news ever heard unto you...it’s gonna come out _some_ kind of way, I think ‘a little creepy’ is the best we could ask.”

“Shit. I was hoping you’d say something nasty.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Got a visitor.”  
  
Her crawler skidded on the floor as she shot out from under the truck, eyes wide. “Jesus wept, Nick Rye, you’re a bastard!” At this, Rye could only laugh--glaring, covered in grease, jumpsuit down around her waist looking up at him from a crawler--he couldn’t help it. “Help me up. Come on.”

Still laughing, he offered her his hand, hauling her up. “Oh--what, C'mon, no harm, no foul.”  
  
“You might have to find someone else to detail your shitty old truck.”  
  
“What happened to turning the other cheek, huh?”  
  
“Do I _look_ like Jesus?” She quirked a brow, and then turned to Joseph. “Father, I am--”  
  
“There’s no reason to be sorry, Evangeline. I was wondering...tonight, would you mind stopping by the ranch? We’d like to have you over for dinner, to repay you for the other night.”  
  
“No way,” Nick interjected, “Kim and I already invited you, remember? Don’t sell us out for a padre.”  
  
“Don’t do that to me, Nick.”  
  
“What happened to those _southern manners_ , huh? Told us yes first.”  
  
“Tomorrow, then?” Joseph countered, accommodating as always. She let out a small sigh of relief.

“What time?”

\--

Evangeline arrived at five ‘o clock sharp, carrying a pie in a chipped flower-printed dish, sunglasses on, red lips smiling, wind nipping at her sundress, printed with yellow flowers.

“Father,” she greeted. “ _John_ .”  
  
“And what’ve you brought?”  
  
“Blackberry peach pie. Acceptable?”  
  
“No ice cream, I see.”  
  
“If you’re an ice-cream on pie kind of guy I no longer respect you. Ice cream is for _birthday cake_. Out of my way. Who’s cooking, can I help?”

He laughed, stepping aside, and she slid right past Joseph into the ranch. John paused, looking over at his brother almost helplessly.

“When are you going to tell her?” He whispered.

“Tonight. Try not to worry, John. Everything is falling into place.”

__

“This is _wonderful_ ,” Faith enthused. “I wish I had your talent.”  
  
“Ah, I had the benefit of being raised around it.” She half-smiled.

“Is that so?” John leaned back, away from his plate--clean after two servings of pie, of course. “You’ve never mentioned.”  
  
“Of course I was raised around it. We were churchgoing people in Georgia, we baked. My mother, my grandmother...one of many family traditions.”  
  
“Some others?”  
  
“Alcoholism? What’s with the interrogation?”

“My polite questioning is an interrogation? Vincent.”  
  
“What do you want to know?”  
  
“Why don’t you give us a basic spread?” He suggested, brow quirked. “Nothing you wouldn’t tell a stranger on the street.”  
  
She seemed reluctant, but sighed, running a finger around the rim of her water glass. “I have a brother,” she seemed to admit, looking everywhere but John. “Andrew James.”  
  
“And...really?”  
  
“Yes. He’s thirty...five? Thirty-five. In prison right now, but he’ll be out any day now with good behavior. Why are you so surprised--how do you think I already knew exactly how to talk to you and your brother? I’m educated.”  
  
“Moving on.”  
  
“Alright. Education. I went to Catholic school for ten years. Skipped a couple of grades--once in grade school, and then I didn’t graduate, I just took the GED.”  
  
“Catholic school?”  
  
“All girls prep, Our Lady of the Sacred Heart. Free with our church. It’s where I learned to go to school hungover, hide in broom closets, pick locks, and disrespect papal authority with every ounce of my being.”

“Harsh,” Jacob noted.

“Oh, fuck the Catholic church,” she replied, sagely. He chuckled, but she didn’t. “I mean that. You can pass that on to whoever you think needs to hear it.”  
  
“Catholic girl, brother. Our knowledge is growing exponentially.”  
  
“There’s not much to say. My father was...a man, in many different definitions of the word. He died when I was fourteen, my mother just over a year later. I stayed with my grandmother, and then she died a few months before I turned eighteen. I stayed at the garage Andrew was working in, and then when I turned eighteen, I enlisted, and I was out of there. Oh--” She snapped her fingers, and pointed at him. “I’ve won three beauty pageants.”  
  
“Lie.”  
  
“No. Miss Juniper County two years running, Miss Georgia Peach after that. Would’ve gone to nationals, had grandma not passed on.”  
  
“So--how--I’m sorry--”  
  
“I wasn’t too bad looking when I was younger. Never ate, always tan, and grandma’s crest white strips and gentility lessons filled in the rest. Plus twelve years in the choir didn’t make for too bad of a talent.”  
  
“ _Choir_ ?”  
  
“Yeah, but I was an alto, so I basically wasn’t even there. I don’t have the trophy, but I do have a picture with it.”

“A _beauty queen,_ ” Faith laughed. “Did you enjoy it?”  
  
“Those things weren’t made to be enjoyed. I didn’t eat for three days before Miss Georgia, the only thing holding me up was hairspray and the knowledge that if I fell down, one of the skeevy judges might rush me. I’m not--all that interesting, John, you know that.”  
  
“You don’t think that’s interesting? What did you sing?”  
  
“Boots of Spanish Leather. Guitar, too. Not that it mattered, I had the best swimsuit. Two sizes too small.”

“I’m sure it was _lovely_ ,” Faith assured, earning a smile. “Did you enjoy sharing it with your grandmother?”  
  
“I did, actually. She never gave up on me, no matter how many times I showed on her doorstep covered in grease. She’d clean me up, give me a cookie, and then set up a chair at the end of the hallway and...chain-smoke, while she had me do laps in her high heels. Practice and exercise.” A smile twitched onto her lips unbidden, eyes lost in a memory, somewhere.”  
  
“You said your father was a man by ‘may definitions’,” Joseph said, softly, earning her attention. “What do you mean?”  
  
“It isn’t precisely table conversation. He was a good man, I don’t mean to discredit him, he...worked hard for his family. I certainly didn’t make things easy on him.”  
  
“Right,” Jacob interjected. “So was your brother there to help you, or were you alone?”  
  
“He’d moved out by the time I was old enough to really be present. When he was around he wasn’t...wasn’t on my team. I didn’t need any help, it’s not--I don’t want you to get that impression.”  
  
“Why? Cause it’s not what happened?”  
  
“Uh-uh, no. We’re at the table, don’t make crass assumptions.”  
  
“Did he hit you, or did he not?”  
  
“Most people got hit, at one point or another.”  
  
“How many points?” John countered. Her jaw tightened. “We’re not trying to antagonize you. We’re trying to understand. We are family, after all.”

“Enough, John. And Jacob. Both of you, enough. It’s nobody’s business, and I’d prefer it if we put the matter to bed. Now. Don’t think just because I got slapped around as a kid you can walk all over me. Now, it’d be my pleasure to clean up the kitchen, so is everyone done with their plates?”

“I think...Joseph wanted to speak with you,” Faith hazarded, sparing glances at the Father.

“Well, would it be alright if I did the dishes, first, Father? Wouldn’t feel right eating your food and not helping out.”  
  
“...of course, Evangeline.” He forced a smile. “Thank you for your kindness.”  
  
“Thank all of you for yours, supper was _amazing_ .”

\--  
  
Joseph poured her a cup of coffee after she did the kitchen, which earned him a bright smile and a laugh. She crossed her legs at the knee, adjusting her skirt and looking up at him as he dropped in two spoons of sugar before passing the torch on.

“Thank you very much, father.”  
  
“Well, we wouldn’t want you falling asleep on the drive,” John snipped, flopping into his own seat. She’d situated herself on the sofa--John, Jacob, and Faith took either the opposite sofa or armchairs and Joseph, with his own cup, sat beside her. Not _right_ beside her, but closer than was expected, judging by the brief side-eye she shot him. “Joseph said you had plans, yesterday. How were the _Ryes_ ?”  
  
“I find it incredibly odd that you’ve founded a church that doesn’t make a point of schmoozing with neighbors,” she commented, stirring her coffee. “It was really, really nice. They’re good people.”  
  
“What do you even _talk_ about? What do you have in common with... _The Ryes_ ?”  
  
“What do _we_ even talk about? What do I have in common with... _The Seeds_ ?” She widened her eyes mockingly. “I like them. I like a lot of people, it’s a helpful quality.”  
  
“I’m simply concerned about the company you’re keeping. That’s all.”  
  
“It’s not like I’m consorting with witches in the woods, John. Dancing naked around bonfires. Chanting in Latin . I left all that church-camp nonsense behind _weeks_ ago. I refuse to contribute to the behaviors you passively encourage.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Don’t _defile_ yourselves with _the other_ . Keep to your own kind, they hate you, you should hate them. Fear what they may do to you. Be prepared to repay them for their violence.”  
  
“Big accusation,” Jacob drawled.

“Not really. It’s easy to think like that. And it’s not unfounded. I’m not blind. I know how many shops I’m not welcome in, how many roads I’d better not break down on. It’s a simple thing to build up spires and say, well, you’ll see when I’m up there and you’re down there. I don’t really know about all of that. I know what I believe, but even then, we still have to live with each other for the time being. So why should I build walls for no reason?”  
  
“Walls can mean protection,” Jacob noted.  
  
“When your immune system responds too harshly to a threat that isn’t there, it only attacks itself. I’m not telling you what to do. Heaven knows. But until you put it in writing that I can’t associate with whoever I please, I’m going to continue associating with whoever I please, and you can just learn to trust my discretion.”

“And if we did? Put it in writing?”  
  
“You’d be different people then I thought you were,” she said, simply, with a half shrug. “I don’t think you would. And I think that with time...things will get better.”  
  
“We might not have that much time.”  
  
“Again, I don’t know about that. So, might as well proceed as usual until things change. Is that what you wanted to talk about?”  
  
“No.” Joseph smiled. “You have a very strong will, don’t you, Evangeline?”  
  
“I’ve been criticized as such, yeah.”  
  
“It isn’t a criticism. It’s...refreshing. You’re secure in your faith, but your heart is wide open, enough to include everyone. Even those who don’t quite understand us. I know John has his struggles. I think he believes your optimism is...too optimistic.”  
  
“Father, I wouldn’t say I have an optimistic bone in my body,” she laughed. “I know what people are capable of. There’s no denying it. The guns in your storage units aren’t for decoration, now are they? No more than the guns on Nick Rye’s plane are for show. It’s just the reality that creating divisions now will make things more likely to blow up later. Don’t be mistaken. I know what could happen. No amount of grilling out is going to change what side I’m on.” Her gaze rolled over to John. “Are you murmuring about me, John Seed?”  
  
John’s eyes widened, slightly. “No. No, I’m not.”  
  
“It seems to me like you have been.”  
  
“Evangeline, I have _not_ been gossiping about you. I’m a very busy man, I don’t have the time to...to... _murmur_ .”  
  
“I’m sure.” Her eyes narrowed, slightly, and he blanched.

“ _Stop_ that, for fuck’s sake. You look like the cover of a country lifestyle magazine with columns on _murdering husbands_ .”  
  
“I resent that. I appreciate the ambush, and Father, your understanding, really. If you want to bring this up later, I’d be open to it without a doubt--unless you’d like to take me downstairs, for whatever reason.”  
  
“This is not an _ambush_ .”  
  
“Definitely turned into one,” Jacob muttered, shifting backward in his seat. “She’s on to you.”  
  
“I think he was resting on the assumption that this is the _first_ time a friendly dinner has turned into a pastoral interrogation.”  
  
“Ridiculous to assume from a Catholic,” Faith said, around a smile. “I remember a few times Jerome was over ‘for lunch’.”  
  
“Mmm-hmm. Father Matthews used to start on the other side of the house and finish with his hand on my knee. You can’t play me, John, I know the game. You’ve made a mountain out of a molehill.”

“This wasn’t even what we were meant to be talking about,” he admitted, sharply. “So no, we didn’t _ambush_ you.”  
  
“Oh, so it was just you?” But she was smiling, again. “What can I do to ease your fears?”  
  
“They’re not genuine,” Faith assured, leaning forwards. “He just wishes you’d spend more time with us.”  
  
“You’d get bored of me. Besides, you need to spend _all_ your time finding me my better half. Maybe a good, strong husband who’ll just _prohibit_ me from talking to the heathens. Keep me around the kitchen, where you’ll always know just where to find me.”

“Someone faithful?” Jacob said, a smirk glinting in his eyes.  
  
“The _most_ faithful, Jake.”  
  
He snorted, and she shook her head, missing the point of his amusement.

“Eager, then? For your soulmate?”  
  
“Definitely not, but I’m working on that. Really, I...I’m trying to look on the bright side.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, carpool lanes...fewer leftovers...someone to hold the ladder. I don’t know, John, there’s a reason serious relationships and I have never been an iconic pair. I don’t like it when people tell me what to do.”  
  
“As I’ve seen.”

“As you’ve seen,” she provided. “Leadership is one thing. Domination is another.”  
  
“Relationships are a give and take,” Joseph said. “You’ll have to guide each other. He’ll need you as much as you need him.” She smiled and nodded--a bit forced, but so clearly _trying_ . Any hopes of telling her died on his lips, and he let out a short sigh. “I pray you find your way, Evangeline. Thank you for joining us, tonight.”  
  
“Thank you for having me, father.”  
  
John saw her to her car, and then immediately wheeled on his older brother, who seemed...troubled. To say the least.

“He’s testing me,” he said, distantly. “She isn’t ready. We have to guide her. So that when she sees for herself, there can be no denying it, no running, no hiding.”  
  
“You don’t think that if you cozy up to her and then suddenly let it slip, it won’t feel like a betrayal?” Jacob was right--it made sense. It seemed like how she’d react--but Joseph couldn’t bear the thought of telling her and seeing the light leave her eyes, watching her stiffen, her mind turning from thoughts of her quiet house and imagining all the expectations he must have of her, the singular _needs_ she would have to imagine. The mother, the wife--the woman, and nothing more. There was no remedy for it aside from time and exposure, and he would not scorn his gift so easily.

__

Joseph visited the garage more and more often, as the weeks passed--as often as he could, really. He liked to stop by, to talk to his people, to become a normalized presence for everyone else, and of course, to speak with his soulmate. She usually only had a few seconds to spare for him, if that, covered in grease with a jumpsuit around her waist, a half-smile on her lips. Every so often, one of their hymns snuck onto the radio. He’d heard a few people groan and complain, and she always silenced them-- _ my garage, my rules, the jesus music stays.  _

He had the pleasure, one day, after making his visits a habit, of seeing her out in the sun, sitting up on the roof of a pickup, feet on the toolbox, elbows on her knees, in jeans and a t-shirt, face clean, hair up,  _ lips red _ . 

Nick and Kim Rye were situated about the bed, along with a man Joseph didn’t quite recognize. He was the one speaking, as he came within earshot.

  
“--look pretty damn important, Vince.”   
  
“ _ I  _ know,” she agreed, smiling, the sun casting a halo around her. The image only lasted a second, as she stood, stepping down into the bed without cringing, moving to sit on the open tailgate. “Do I need to show you again?”   
  
“...yeah. One more time.”   
  


Joseph watched as she dismounted, took a breath, and then smoothly vaulted up into the bed, taking about three wide steps--one across the bed, one onto the toolbox, and one onto the roof. It was impossibly quick--practiced, really--and furthered when she slid down the window, down the hood, and off. The man hollered, meeting her around the side, where he scooped her into an embrace, lifting her off the ground. Not only did she allow it, but she encouraged it, lifting her legs and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Kim saw Joseph, and elbowed Nick, who quickly straightened up. Without looking away from Joseph, he called out, “Hey, Sharky, might wanna get off the cult property.”   
  
“Fucking  _ rude _ ,” Evangeline huffed, as ‘Sharky’ dropped her. Sharky saw Joseph, but unlike his friends, just smiled, lazily, slinging an arm around Evangeline’s shoulders. “Father, good to see you. Was there something I could do you for?”   
  
“Oh, no no no,” Sharky interjected, before he could say a word. “You’re busy, remember.”   
  
“Never too busy to help out.”   
  
“And that’s why you told Merle to shove his sockets up his ass? I’m sure one of the other grease monkeys can help the padre out, you’ve gotta go.”   
  
“I don’t actually  _ like  _ Merle,” she said, like it was a secret. “And helping someone I do care for matters more than a shopping trip.”   
  
“You’re coming,” Kim said, without room for negotiation. “Need some feminine wisdom.”   
  
“Just--give me a minute, would you?” She slid out from under Sharky’s arm, and approached Joseph, gesturing for him to follow her a few paces away. “Sorry about that.”   
  
“Not at all. I didn’t mean to...interrupt.”   
  
“Not hardly. Kim just wanted some help dress shopping, is all, but I can take care of whatever you need.”   
  
“I’m just stopping by, really. How are things, around the shop?”   
  
“Couldn’t be better, Father. Just gotta deal with this, is all.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked back at the group. 

  
“How do you mean?”   
  
“They’re acting weird.” She tilted her head. “Trying to get me out of town. If I get robbed, we know where to start.”   
  
He chuckled, and she half-smiled, crossing her arms. “Well, I wish you luck.”   
  
“Thank you, sir. If you wanted more info, you could talk to Foly, I took the day off, but she’s been here.”   
  
He thanked her, and watched her walk towards her group--surprising Sharky by jumping on his back, earning a flinch, at first, and then a piggyback ride across the property. Something in him  _ burned _ , and he didn’t know whether or not to scorn the instinct that told him to object.

He stayed  _ around  _ after the girls had left, and heard Sharky speaking to Nick.

“ _ \--most kickass party ever.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Without booze? Who ever went to a birthday party without booze?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Dunno, but we’ll make it work _ .”

__

“So. Evangeline. When’s your birthday?”   
  
The young woman froze  _ dead _ , fork halfway to her mouth. Faith blinked, eyes widening when Evangeline looked up at her, razor-focused.

“What do you know?” She asked, even,  _ deadly _ . 

“...excuse me?”   
  
“No, just--what do you know, Faith?”   
  
“I’ve just...heard...some...things.”   
  
“Son of a bitch.” She set her fork down and leaned back. “It was someone at the Sheriff’s department, I’ll bet.”   
  
“Why do you say that?”   
  
“I got a ticket the other day. It’s--not important, I’m a responsible driver.”   
  
“Who gets tickets?”   
  
“When you see a two mile road, flat,  _ dead  _ empty, you push the pedal. Right? Well, turns out...radar trap. Pratt had a quota to fill, I guess. I think his exact words were  _ you can just use your cult money to pay it off _ .” She shook her head, smoothing her hands over her thighs. “I’m not providing the food for whatever they do. Mark my words.”   
  
“Consider them marked,” Faith laughed. “When is it? You can tell us.”   


“That’s highly personal information, no. No, it’s--really, all my birthday celebrates is bad memories and about ten years of ritualistically getting wasted and waking up outside.” When Faith’s expression grew horrified, she half-smiled. “Everybody has traditions, right?”

“How  _ old  _ are you?”   
  
“Not old enough for that confession to be any less startling. My birthday is...a blacked out day, in my family. Has been since I was fourteen. Bad luck, you could say, but really--I’m an adult, so it doesn’t matter, anymore. No adult really  _ needs  _ to celebrate their birthday.”   
  
“Blacked out? Why is that?”   
  
“It’s not exactly--”   
  
“Table conversation?” John guessed. “For fuck's sake, just say it.”   
  
“Alright. I shared it with my father. After he died, my mother couldn’t stand the thought of trying to celebrate for me, and so we...stopped. Was that  _ expedient _ enough for you, John?” She tilted her head. 

“...yes?”   
  
“Honestly.” She shook her head, and let out a sigh. “It doesn’t mean I’m unloved, or that I  _ hate  _ myself, or anything like that. It’s just...the negatives outweigh the positives.” She made a vague gesture with one hand, and picked up her fork with the other. “But keep that under your hat, would you? I’d rather get an ice cream cake than a pity party. This has happened once--I had my girlfriend get me my wallet  _ once _ , and then I had to go to the olive garden. I lived.”   


“Never made that mistake again, did you?” Jacob asked, earning a half-smile. “When he pulled you over, you should’ve kept going. John could’ve helped you out.”   
  
“I considered it. I almost talked my way out of it, though, it was Pratt, after all. Boy’s softer than a marshmallow.”   
  
“Surprised he had the balls to ticket  _ you _ .”   
  
“I called him  _ honey  _ one too many times. Tipped him off, got him all flustered.” She shrugged. “Next time, I guess.”   
  
“How old are you going to be?” Faith asked, changing her angle.   
“Twenty-five.”

Jacob whistled. “Getting on in years, aren’t you? Pretty soon everybody’ll be calling you a spinster.”   
  
She held up two crossed fingers, and he chuckled.

__

August thirteenth. Faith knew, because she knew everything that went down around the river. It was sweltering, and a small group was out early in the morning, laying out tablecloths, setting up grills. She reported back to Joseph, who made the journey to observe.   
They were certainly going the right route--a big, neighborhood party, an  _ excuse  _ to get together. Everyone had something to repay her for, anyways--three years of fixing fences here, cleaning gutters there, overly-flexible prices for those who were in a pinch all around. And because it was Evangeline-Vincent’s, the cult’s darling mechanic’s party, when he and his siblings came, late in the afternoon, after the soiree had been in swing for a while, nobody turned them away. They got some glares, plenty of murmurs, but when Nick Rye approached them, it wasn’t in anger. 

He was guarded, sure, but not angry. “Noise complaints?”   
  
“Not at all.” John smiled sharp, deadly. “We came to wish her a happy birthday.”   
  
“Yeah, well. No trouble, alright? No conversions, no property deals, no threats. Just a barbeque.”

Joseph was already accepting the terms when someone called for Nick--who turned to see Sharky running towards him, a woman over his shoulder.

“Hey--woah, hey--Nick, wanna see somethin’ cool?”   
  
“...how did you even get her up there?”   
  
“Long story. Since miss Jones here is too Christian to get her birthday spankin’s, I thought of something even better.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m too Christian for that, too,” the limp body, apparently Evangeline, objected, voice muffled as she was, after all, speaking from behind him. She was wearing shorts, miles of skin paler than the rest of her on display, well-suited by the denim, shirt disturbed, midriff exposed. 

“Thought you were dead weight, chica?”   
  
“I am, but I’m  _ haunting you _ .”   
  
“Take a video,” he ordered, starting to walk backward. “We’re gonna wanna remember this.”   
  
Then, without further ado, he started  _ sprinting-- _ right towards the lake. She started struggling, but she was too late--her shriek echoed along the water when he threw her in. A few people were watching from the banks, prepared for the main event, laughing, like Boshaw, who had his hands on his knees.

“Fucking  _ exquisite _ ,” Nick called, laughing as she popped up out of the water, jumping onto the dock just to fall back in, taking Boshaw by the arm, and all the way down with her. 

__

Evangeline was no less of a temptation now that Joseph knew she was his--because he didn’t have her yet, after all. There she was, though, walking out of the lake, water up about her waist, pulling her sopping shirt up and off, revealing a neon-colored bikini top. She threw the shirt at Sharky, who was stripping as well, and recoiled at the attack while she let her hair down, combing through the wet strands. 

She was a vision, to him, and likely to every other man who had the chance to catch a glimpse of her as she shucked her shorts off and then waded back into the water. She didn’t even know the Seeds were there--simply kicked off a round of chicken fights, absolutely carefree.

He wondered how god, in all his mercy, had thought to give him this gift. A woman who sped down empty highways, who laughed when people picked her up and carted her around, and yet knew how to level a glare over the dinner table that’d make the most poorly behaved child sit still. He knew some parts of her would have to change, sooner or later, but they weren't unforgivable.

He didn’t wait for her to come to him. As the sun went down, everyone retreated up to the shore, but she stayed on the dock. He took his chance.

She didn’t glance back as he made his way down the dock, though he knew she was aware someone was coming. She was idly kicking her foot in and out of the water, looking out at the mountains in the distance. Peaceful. He wondered how many of her friends were put off by the tattoo between her shoulder blades,  _ WRATH  _ in bold letters. She certainly wasn’t shy, of that or her other markings, the scars, the bundle of sunflowers on her lower back, the floral arrangement over her left shoulder. She wore herself openly, in a way he hadn’t seen from her before. 

A moment after he’d stopped behind her, she glanced over her shoulder and immediately startled, nearly slipping off the dock as she gasped.

“Christ,” she breathed, spreading a hand over her chest. “Father, I--”   
  
“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he assured, smiling. “May I sit?”

She scooted over, wordlessly, and he eased down beside her. She turned to face him, and his helplessly wandering eyes caught sight of her mark--he could just barely see it as it was, hidden in the valley between her breasts. The  _ ‘N’  _ was the most visible part, but he forced his eyes not to linger, glad his shirt was covering his own. Her face was flushed, touched even more than usual by the sun, and her eyes were still smiling.

“I wanted to ask how you were doing. I know that this has been a difficult day, for you.”   
  
“Thank you, Father. It’s...it’s been good, actually. Which it shouldn’t have been, but.” She took in a breath. “Can I ask you something?”   
  
“Of course. Anything.”   
  
“Should I have been mourning?” She tilted her head, slightly, swirling amber eyes boring into him. “I...I feel  _ guilty _ . Should I?”   
  
“No.” The word left him on a breath, unchoreographed, unbidden. Usually, he would’ve answered a bit more openly--encouraged her to appreciate the root of her guilt while also appreciating the beauty of life. But he couldn’t help but say it, and continued. “Evangeline, this day marks sorrow, for your family, but it’s overweight by the blessing of  _ your  _ life. It should be celebrated. So no. There’s nothing wrong with appreciating the love given to you, by your friends, by your family. You’ve earned your place in these people’s hearts. Why turn away from this gift?”

She looked away, and again, he moved on instinct alone--slowly reaching out until his fingers brushed her chin. Eyes wide, she snapped back to look at him, and he lowered his hand, slowly. “You are worthy of love, Evangeline. You deserve happiness. Did you enjoy yourself?”   
  
“Yes.” Her voice was a whisper. “Yes, I did.”   
“You did nothing wrong. Hmm?”   
  
“...yes, father.”   
  
He smiled, and stood, offering her a hand. “I believe your friends are waiting on you. Perhaps you should join them, before John starts making offers on everyone’s homes.”   
  
She laughed, accepting his hand. She was cold, from her time in the lake and the rapidly chilling evening air. As they walked down the dock, he shed his jacket, gingerly laying it over her shoulders. A refusal was on her lips, and it died when he smiled down at her. He looked so... _ happy _ , it was hard to place  _ why _ .” She thanked him under her breath, and pulled the fabric around her, just slightly.

__

“Alright, Jones...something  _ you’re embarrassed _ about.”   
  
“It’s my birthday,” she said, after taking a sip of her water.

“Nuh-uh, you heard about the time I lit my mom’s pants on fire, you gotta spill,” Sharky pressed, leaning over. “Not embarrassed to say in front of the church folk, right? Didn’t you confess?”   
  
“My  _ sins _ , yeah, but not every embarrassing...oh, fine.” 

A round of cheers went around the campfire, and she flushed cherry red, looking into it. “Alright. Alright, Christ. When I was little, my grandma watched this...televangelist, on local access. His name was Daniel Pryor--Reverend Daniel Pryor--and I was in  _ love  _ with him.”   
  


“...you’re kidding, right?”   
  
“Nope. I was absolutely, completely, one-hundred-percent in  _ love  _ with him. Don’t--don’t you dare laugh. You bastards.”   
  
“Why?” Kim asked, rubbing Nick’s back while he choked on his beer. “I mean--was this the start of a pathology, for you?”   
  
“ _ No _ , damnit, he was--alright, listen, I grew up Catholic. You know, Catholics? Men in dresses telling you god hates you, and has done since you were born? Anyways--and Reverend Pryor was a tall guy in a powder blue suit, with the...pointiest,  _ shiniest  _ snakeskin shoes you’ve ever seen. And it ended as soon as it began, because my brother told me we couldn’t be together, seeing as he was already married to Judge Judy.” A smile crept over her face. “I was  _ heartbroken _ . Cried myself to sleep for days.”

“How  _ old  _ were you?” John asked. “Six--seven?”   
  
“What’re you talking about, this was last summer,” she said, around her smirk. “Six. Good guess.”

“Well.” Sharky sniffed. “Guess none of the Seeds wear snakeskin shoes.”   
  
“Lucky me. I’d be beside myself, I wouldn’t know what to do.”   
  
“That’s all it takes to take you down, then? Powder blue suit, ugly boots?”   
  
“Well. Sometimes he’d come up to the podium wearing a cowboy hat. A  _ white  _ cowboy hat.”

“You have...horrible taste, in men.”   
  
“He was a televangelist, alright, Boshaw, he was--incredibly charismatic.”   
  
“He sounds like a used car dealer.”   
  
“Well, in my town, used car dealers were the upper class. They represented status, and...and wealth. Of course I was attracted to him, he was a man of power.” Sharky broke down laughing again, and she was still smiling when she glanced over at John. “Never tell anyone.”   
  
“I’m going to tell everyone,” he corrected. “Jacob?”   
  
“Yep. Joe?”   
  
“I think we can keep it between us,” he allowed, earning a bright laugh. She’d offered him his jacket back, but he’d declined. It was still seated around her shoulders. 

“At least someone’s on my side.”   
  
“I’d promise you too, chica, but I’m prolly gonna spill it the first time I get plastered.”   
  
“That’s alright, Sharky. I forgive you in advance. John and Jacob will have to earn my forgiveness through a series of tests and gestures.”   
  
“Why’s he get special treatment?”   
  
“ _ I  _ brought the chips and salsa. Which is all we needed to give her a kickass party.”   
  
“That’s right.”   
  
“Oh, shit.” He bolted upright. “Hold on. Stay put. Nobody say shit.”   
  
With that, he jogged off towards the trucks. Evangeline relaxed further into her seat. “Thank you guys, really. This was...incredible.”   
  
“Only kinda about you, mostly a kickass way to send off summer.”   
  
“Well, still. And thank you, to all of you...three, who managed not to get wasted. I really appreciate it.”   
  
“It’s seven, with the seeds. Eight, with you.”   
  
“Eight of us. Look at that. There’s hope for Western society after all.”

 

“I really, really,  _ really  _ wish you weren’t so damn likeable,” Kim sighed, setting down her empty beer bottle. “You’re part of the family, Jones. Nothing we could’ve done about it.”   
  
“Well, I was raised in a different church,” she allowed. “Make nice with your neighbors, all that.”   
  
“Yeah, and you’re fuckin’ good at it. Thought you were just a...youth ministry, or some shit, there for a while.”   
  
“I know.”   
  
“But you never push.”   
  
“Not my job.”

 

“One in a million,” he said, shaking his head. “Dunno what they did to deserve you.”   
  
“You know how I feel.”   
  
“Yeah, yeah, it’s the other way around. Still.”   
  
She smiled, wanly, and Sharky came jogging back-- _ slamming  _ an oversized sombrero on her head, shouting  _ booyah, birthday bitch  _ as he did it. 

“That is my gift to you,” he explained, once she stopped laughing. “You can wear it to church so everybody knows how spicy you are.”   
  
“I definitely  _ won’t _ . But I appreciate it. A lot. Thank you.”

“In another universe, I would’ve gotten you plastered on margs, and we would’ve fucked and then regretted it for the rest of our lives. Unless...unless it was the perfect combo.”   
  
“Don’t be gross, come on.” She was smiling even as she chastised him. “You know I don’t like it.”   
  
“Yeah, yeah. And the Father’s here, too, wouldn’t want to embarrass you. Hey, didn’t you once tell me that you lost your virginity--”   
  
“Stop it. Don’t go there.”   
  
“--in the supply closet where they kept the wafers and shit?”   
  
“John  _ knew  _ that,” she huffed, reaching over to shove him--putting enough force behind it to topple his chair as he laughed, “but I told him when I was sober, and I told  _ you _ when I was drunk.”   
  
“The day I met you,” he sighed, still in a heap on the ground. “I remember it like it was yesterday.”   
  
“...I think I need to drive you home, Boshaw. How many you down?”   
  
“Dunno. Ten or eleven, did some shots earlier. You were damn fine, y’know? See why Eden’s Gate snapped you up, fresh out of the corps and still looked like jailbait. Not into that, but y’know. You did.”   
  
“Sweet spirits of mercy, you’re fucked up,” she sighed, as she stood, letting Joseph’s jacket slip off her shoulders, offering it to him with a wan smile before moving to haul up her friend, the strap on her hat keeping it in place. 

“We’ll take care of him,” Kim assured, rising herself. “We’ve just gotta put out the fire, rule was, first five to pass out clean up tomorrow. We can drop you at home, too.”   
  
“We’ve got her,” John assured. She nodded, too, which assuaged Kim’s worries. Nick hauled Sharky up, waving to her. Kim mentioned that there’d be some packages on her doorstep, and she could just give any booze she got back to them, no arguments about the gift giving.

Then, it was just her and the Seeds--Jacob threw some dirt on the fire, and she gathered up her half-dry clothes.   
  
“I can walk. It’s a nice night.”   
  
“On your birthday?”   
  
“Technically, it was yesterday. Isn’t Faith asleep in the car?”   
  
“She’ll wake up. Is the hat coming with you?”   
  
“Oh, Jake...the hat’s never coming off. Did y’all enjoy yourselves?”   
  
“We definitely got some intel.  Let’s get you home,  _ spicy _ .” He slapped her on the back, and she went with the gesture, stumbling for show.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up in the kitchen.

Joseph hadn’t really made the decision to court her. He realized, one day, that it’d simply been made.

She assumed he had taken a shine to her, for whatever reason, and a few months after her birthday, genuinely considered him a friend. He’d come by the shop late, they’d talk--he’d invite her to dinner more and more often, and a couple of times, it’d just been them. He spoke about the project, and the things they were planning, her work, how much she was helping. But they found more to talk about--music, books, old T.V shows, social issues--she had so many passionate opinions, he couldn’t help but get lost in her words whenever she’d pick up her voice and carry on about something--and sometimes, when the mood was right, and he’d charmed her enough, he could get her to talk about herself. The good times, in her life, passing comments hinting at the bleakness surrounding everything. Simple phrases said in jovial tones, as if they didn’t betray a horror his heart ached to know she’d experienced.

_Dad didn’t like that at all._

_Andrew had something to say about that, you know._

_I guess that must’ve been the last Christmas we really had with mom, too._

He even got her to start bringing up her military history. The story behind the bullet hole in her shoulder, the scar on her temple from the butt of a rifle. He never brought up the horizontal scars on her thighs. He imagined he would, eventually. Maybe while tracing them in bed. Maybe while kissing them, singing her praise, for all the soft looks she would give him, gentle smiles and soothing touches when he spoke openly about the negative aspects of his own life. The grins she treated him to, which were so much more electrifying in private than they were in person.

When he saw her in the mid-morning sunlight, scrubbed clean for church, he wanted her standing beside him, and yet didn’t want to ruin the sight of her tucked away in a pew, listening attentively. He had a feeling that if she got comfortable with him--when, _when_ she did--she would question him. He already heard it in their conversations, a gentle twist against his pessimistic railing on many functions of the modern world. A sharp point in a honeyed tone, eyes bright and curious. She didn’t agree with him on everything. Perhaps she even viewed him as a lesser, necessary evil.

Why would his perfect partner be nothing but agreeable to his thoughts and actions? The Lord had truly blessed him.

But as days passed, it became painfully clear--he needed more. More than evenings, polite conversations, more than waves and _it isn’t table conversation_. He needed the things she showed her friends, the things she never showed anyone. He needed to be loved in return.

 --

The Father was standing too close to her. 

It didn’t alarm her, and _that_ was what freaked her out. Because he stood too close to her...often. All the time, really. He was just too close, all the time, and she’d gotten used to it. But she shouldn’t have been, not when he was standing hip to hip with her for no damn good reason. Sure, he had a right to be _near_ , he was praising her for the success of her little venture, but it was ridiculous.

She hoped it was subtle when she rounded the table to gather cellophane _elsewhere_. Even if it wasn’t, he didn’t follow her, so at least she’d accomplished her goal.  

“Just a bake sale, Father,” she said, looking up at him for just a second, balling up the garbage in her hands.  
“Well. More than a few people have approached us with interest.”   
  
“People are like that. If you want to promise someone a community, you have to show them a community. Father Matthews was _way_ sketchier than you, and he wrangled a decent flock. I pass unto you the tools of his trade.” She gestured widely to the picked-through tables of baked goods, down to a few plates of brownies and empty wrappings. A smile twitched at his lips.

“ _Way_ sketchier, is that so?”   
  
“Mhm.” She nodded, looking back down at her work.  

“Well. It’s good to hear that I could be doing worse.”  
  
She chuckled, and he started gathering trash as well, working with her in silence until all the tables were empty, the remaining goods passed on to those deconstructing the tables. He still followed her, as if on a string, and she cast him a few strange looks. It was harder to pretend he wasn’t so close, in the open air. When there was nothing but space, nowhere but anywhere else to go. He was a busy man, an important one, sticking around to pick up trash with her in the middle of the day.

“I’m taking a trip home,” she announced, after they’d tossed what they had, and he was just about to say his goodbyes. She looked up at him, squinting at the sun over his head. “Next week. Already have the replacements organized, I’m leaving a few people I trust in charge of the garage.”  
  
“I see. What’s the occasion?”

“My brother’s getting married. Again.”  
  
“To his soulmate?”   
  
“No, his soulmate’s in...Vegas, I think? They gave it a shot, but couldn’t stand each other. I know Missy, though, I think they’ll work out.”   
  
He hummed. “How long will you be gone?”   
  
“A week, maybe? Two? No more than a month. It depends on how he’s doing.”   
  
“Are you going to try to speak to him? About the project?”   
  
“It depends. I don’t usually...speak to him, about anything, but I can try.”   
  
He gave her an encouraging smile and advised her to be safe--and check in once she returned home, of course. If she found it odd--she did--she didn’t comment.

__ 

Evangeline came back into town almost two months later. No one had heard from her, not a single word. Joseph broke his tenants on modern technology and spent his time glued to John’s phone, eyes trained on all news from Juniper County, Georgia. Some bodies, some claimed--some unclaimed. He wondered if one was her.

His siblings were half amused, half concerned by his rising paranoia.

“It’s Jones,” John said, in way of explanation, highlighting it with a vague hand gesture. “At worst, she started drinking again. Which, after sitting through a Catholic wedding, who can blame her?"

Joseph wasn’t soothed. He prayed each morning and each evening for her safe return, and the night her truck came to a stop in front of the ranch marked the easiest breath he’d taken since she left. John was the one to hear it, and smirked, pleased, sitting back in his chair. Jacob announced it was her scuffed up old Ford, and John’s smile widened.  
“Look at that. She isn’t _dead in a ditch somewhere_.”

Joseph was the one to greet her at the door. _Of course he was_. She’d waited on the porch for a good five minutes, knowing full well they knew she was there, fidgeting, contemplating whether or not she could just shoot John a text and drive off.

They’d figure it out eventually, so she knocked, and was greeted by the exact person she didn’t want to see. She smiled, the gesture straining the fresh scab on her bottom lip.

“Father. I made it back in one piece.”  
  
His eyes widened, mouth falling open, just slightly, and then it closed, and he hardened, stepping aside. “Come in, child.”   
  
Normally, comfortable as she was with Joseph, she’d wage the polite war-- _nope, couldn’t possibly, late hour, need to be getting home_ \--but his tone left absolutely no room for argument. He was a pastor, she couldn’t blame him for that--she showed up on his doorstep, about a month overdue, beat to hell, arm in a sling, standing slumped where she was usually pencil straight.

She slid into the house feeling like a kicked dog, ignoring the way he followed _close behind_. In the living room, John’s smirk dropped in an instant, and Jacob whistled.

“Looks like someone had a good time.”  
  
“Thanks, Jake, I did. Nobody say anything. It’s family business, and I’m not going to talk about it. It doesn’t matter. Alright?”   
  
“ _Family business_ ?”   
  
“Yes.”

“...Family business?”  
  
“Yes.”   
  
“Is your arm broken?”   
  
“No. Just got a dislocated shoulder, it’s sore.”   
  
“Oh, well, in _that_ case. This isn’t  _family business_ in the sense that it’s between you and your brother. This is _family business_ in the sense that this is your true family, Evangeline. So tell us what happened.”   
  
“John.” She _nearly_ snapped it, suddenly on a ledge she hadn’t realized she was even close to. She was looking at him the way she’d looked at him during her confession, guarded, cagey-- _wrath_ creeping up on her, bubbling in her throat. “I’m not going to stand here and badmouth my brother so that you can do the same. What went down is between us and whoever was watching from above. It’s over and done with.”

“It was your brother, then? _Why_ ? What could you of possibly done to--”   
  
“This isn’t news, John. He broke my arm in three places when he heard I’d been fooling around with girls. When I was thirteen he broke my nose, because he caught me smoking behind the house. This is how Joneses, archaically, solve arguments.”   
  
“And what was this argument about?”   
  
“The project.” Joseph’s tone hadn’t changed, still stained with authority, unwavering, serious. “Wasn’t it?”   
  
“I told him he should come and see.” She said it simply, as though the mere suggestion hadn’t earned her a broken nose and a black eye, a split lip, and a dislocated shoulder, plus whatever pains had been enacted on her torso that had her slumping more and more by the second. “Due diligence, right?”   
  
“It isn’t _alright_ , Evangeline.”   
  
“It is. It is, Father, there’s nothing--there’s only the one man, in the world, who I’ll tolerate this from. It’s allowed, I think. And you have to think about it from his perspective. I left. I left him, the family, the shop--and if that’s not an insult enough, I start preaching to him? No, it’s...we were both wrong. But we settled it. Like Joneses.”   
  
“So he’s beat to shit, too?” Jacob asked. She tightened her jaw, looking down. “Right. Thought so.”   
  
“What do you want from me, Seed? You don’t get to stand up there and look down on _my_ family, alright?”   
  
“Not even on your abusive brother? The monster who turned you into a victim?” Joseph stepped forward, and her gaze turned on him--wide and angry and _exposed_ , the wrath etched into her streaming out at him.

“How _dare_ you?” She asked, knowing he was The Father, the Prophet, their leader, their shepherd. “No--no. No. Absolutely not. You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” He reached out, touch somehow _still_ feather-light, hand warm as he cupped the less-damaged side of her face. “Or is it simply not what you want to hear?”   
  
“There’s no such thing as a perfect man,” she said, _batting_ his hand away like he were nothing more than a housefly, a gesture that made him freeze, eyes wide. “I’m not a _victim_ . And he isn’t a _monster_ . Even broken bones heal, he’ll live and die as my brother, and no amount of preaching or vilifying will _ever_ change that. There’s a difference between family and blood, and you know that, so don’t talk to me like _I_ should hold myself to different standards.”

“...brave way to talk to the pastor,” Jacob noted, while the room reeled from her outburst.

“Pastor has a brave way of talking to me,” she countered. “I’m going home. This is the end of this. Alright? The end.”  
  
“It isn’t,” Joseph said, stepping forward. “You didn’t deserve this. No one should--”   
  
“It’s absolutely _none_ of your business, Joseph!” Her voice rose, brow furrowing, and she took a step back. “I follow your teachings, I work for your project, and that is _all_ I owe you! Whatever _vested interest_ you have in me is finished. Tonight.”   
  
“Excuse me?” He took a step towards her, bridging the gap she’d created, but she held fast. “I’m sorry, Evangeline, if it pains you to hear it, but nothing you could do could ever warrant this. _You_ ...you are a gift. A blessing. The Lord did not place you on this earth so that you could suffer, and my _vested interest_ is a simple recognition of this fact. There’s nothing you can do to turn me away. It will never be finished.”

He closed the rest of the distance between them, standing nearly flush with her. Some of the anger had faded, turning into indignant confusion. She didn’t cower away, not even when he brought _both_ hands up, properly cupping her face.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. “It’s you.”

“Evangeline--”  
  
She broke away, and his hold, ever-so-gentle, failed him as her expression morphed, betrayal and _anger_ , again, eyes wide and _hurt_.

“It was never about my work in the project, or...or the community, you were _sizing me up_ . And John--what the fuck, John? You weren’t going to tell me?”   
  
“It wasn’t my place.”   
  
“You _promised_ me you’d ‘find him and bring him to me’.”   
  
“And I did! You just...didn’t realize, at the time. Evangeline, if I had told you your soulmate was _the father,_ what would you have done? Run into the mountains, or...resigned yourself to a life of hiding your sins and rearing children? Hmm? Which of the two?”   
  
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not a _child_ , John. When--when were you going to tell me?” She wheeled on Joseph. “The day of our wedding?”   
  
“I...I had hoped that you would be open to the concept before I made it clear. You’re just confused, I--”   
  
“I’m not confused. My tattoo does not say _confusion_ , Father.”

“Let’s go out back,” Jacob advised, standing. “We’ll--”  
  
“I’m too tired for this,” she announced. “I’m too tired for...you, for anyone, I’m going home.”   
  
“...Joseph is your soulmate.”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“And you’re going home?”   
  
“Well hell, John, he’s only been my soulmate my whole life. Not that special, now is it? Besides, I’m the one who’s _late_ to the party. I’m going home unless you want to come over here and _physically_ stop me. I have three cracked ribs, I’m sure you could. Do not call me, do not come to my house. Any of you. Including Faith, please pass that on.”   
  
“At least let someone drive you, home, you’re in no state to--”   
  
“I drove here from Georgia. I’ll make it another half hour. Goodnight, Father.” She said it with finality, and then slipped past them. Joseph sank into a seat as the door slammed, completely unsure of what to do. It certainly wasn’t how he’d pictured the moment, but John had told him--she would be angry. He’d said it over and over, worry rising as time passed--that when she realized, there would be hell to pay. Apparently, he should’ve trusted more in his brother and less in his hopes.

“Just let her cool off,” Jacob advised. “Touchy about her family, and betrayed in the same night. Plus...long drive. Give her a few days.”  
  
__

Jacob wasn’t coming out of nowhere--and Joseph wasn’t sure how to proceed, so he did as instructed, and left her alone. He saw her next almost a week later, at church. She slipped inside and sat in the back, missing her sling, bruises starting to turn yellow, the scab on her lip dark red and lifting at the corners.

John muttered, under his breath, that she looked like shit, and hadn’t been sleeping. Joseph was tempted to mention her, during the sermon, but he didn’t--he didn’t want her storming out when she was finally within reach.

Afterward, she was among those who came up to speak with him. He couldn’t help but smile, nodding and making excuses through the crowd until they were face to face. She looked up at him, jaw taut as a bowstring, eyes intent, but bagged, red lines creeping into the whites.

“Are you ready to talk, child?”  
  
“No.” She cleared her throat. “No, I’m not. But I don’t think I ever will be. I know you’re busy, but--”   
  
“Not too busy for this. They can handle it. Where would you like to go?”   
  
“Sharky might still be at my house, but we can go there.”   
  
“Sharky?”   
  
“He heard I was back, some supervisors at the garage. Showed up, insisted on taking care of me.” She started leading him out of the church, while confused followers were herded back by John. “He’s been ruining everything for the past five days, I can’t make him leave. He’s a grown man, and he’s broken three of my windows--I can’t even be mad at him. It’s my fault for letting him inside. But--if you show up, he might...get the hell out.”   
  
“He’s been a menace, then?”   
  
“Yes. It...it has been a little nice. I keep a lot of things on high shelves. And he did water my plants. Don’t mention that to him, though, for...christ’s sake.” She let out a harsh sigh. “You know the way?”   
  
He didn’t argue, simply took the truck and followed her.

__

Sharky was indeed at her house, sitting on the porch, drinking a beer in his boxers. He didn’t even startle when they pulled up--not even when Joseph rounded his vehicle and was looking right at him.

“... _what_ ?” She requested. “Are you serious?”   
  
“Got shit on my clothes. Gotta put ‘em in the wash.”   
  
“ _Did you_ ?”   
  
“Well, not yet. Dunno how your washer works. Padre.” He stood, groaning. “Come show me, and I’ll borrow something of yours. Give you some _privacy_ . Unless--”   
  
“No, that’s fine. I think I have some work clothes that might fit you.”   
  
Twenty minutes later, Sharky was snug in a pair of women’s jeans and a _Nevada_ sweatshirt, and Joseph and Evangeline were alone at the table. He’d been there the whole time, listening to the two bicker back and forth--at one point, he hollered something about _treating me like this after I helped you out of the shower?_

But, finally, she was in front of him, looking, frankly, exhausted, but forcing a weak smile. “The help was nice. I just...really wish it hadn’t been him.”

“Did you tell him?”  
  
“No. No, I didn’t tell him.”   
  
Something tightened in his stomach. “Evangeline...I know who I am. I know how you...view me. A pastor. Someone friendly to everyone. And when I first learned of our connection, that was all you knew about me, truly. You were already hesitant about the _idea_ of a soulmate. It didn’t seem right to give you a gift you didn’t want. I had the ability to _attempt_ to make things easier for my other half, and I’m not ashamed to say that I took it. But I do believe I let fear win, and I waited too long. Clearly, He knew. You saw right through me.” He smiled, slightly, not truly joyful, just...present. Reassuring. “I apologize for that. And for the other night. I was afraid, afraid that I’d lost you, lost my chance to show you what God intended for us. He taught me a valuable lesson.”   
  
“You know I’m not as...inclined to predestination, as you. As a lot of your followers. I know all things happen for a reason, I just...can’t find the reason. I don’t understand.”   
  
“I know. I know, and I’m so sorry. You must be so confused. So...scared. You thought you found a home, you wanted to see something in me and it’s been torn away from you. I helped perpetuate this...misperception. I’ll never be sorry enough for that. But we were destined to walk, side by side into Eden’s Gate. There’s no mistaking that.”   
  
“I’m sorry, Father. Joseph. I’m sorry.” He tilted his head, and she looked away, taking in a shaky breath. “I don’t _want_ it, I’m so sorry. Any of it, I don’t...it’s not fair. To either of us, I’m not--”   
  
“I know. And at first, I was...angry. Angry that I was living a lie while you connected with everyone else, closer to those on the wrong path than me. But this is your test, Evangeline. You’ve been seeking the light, but you haven’t found it, yet. I can help you. Better than I’ve been trying to.”   
  
“And you were. All the dinner dates.” She shook her head, reaching up to push her hair back--down and loose around her shoulders, darkening honey blonde. “ _Long conversations._ You came to my _birthday party_.”

“...John thinks you must be frightened of what’s to come. The expectations I have on you. Marriage, children--these are things I desire, but I desire them from a willing, loving partner. I know who you are. I know that you’ll see. I am a patient man.”  
  
“But how patient?”   
  
He smiled, as she started worrying her bottom lip. “More patient than you’d think. You aren’t as lost as you believe. You’re here. You’re helping with all your heart. You’ve opened yourself up to me, to my family, accepted what was opened to you in return. You don’t understand. Let me show you. Trust me.”   
  
“Tell me now, Joseph--do you want to be Joseph? I mean--do you want to be my equal? Honestly--will some part of you always want to be the father, to me? Is that what--”   
  
“No.” He struggled for an elaboration, and found nothing. “Side by side, Evangeline. Together.”

They shared a moment of silence, and then she asked; “If you want to court me, when am I going to court you?”  
  
He smiled widely, then, genuinely, almost dazed. She didn’t want it, nothing had changed--but she looked him in the eye, and welcomed what he offered anyways. “You already did. Your work, the difficult work, is over. You’ve shown me so much of yourself. It’s my turn to show you that this is a reward. Not a punishment.”

She didn’t believe him. Not even a bit. Still, she smiled, and nodded, and told him to _do his worst, so to speak_.

They had tea, and he asked after her health. She confessed to falling in the shower, and detailed the ordeal of getting hauled out by Sharky--struggled to maintain his indelible perception as a _gentleman_ while helping her _naked, slippery, crippled ass_ out of the tub and into bed. The jealousy was there, present, simmering--but he was sated on the idea that eventually, he would be the only one to touch her. The only one allowed to even  _try_. The only one she looked too, the only one she wanted--the only one. Period.

Joseph laughed, and softened. “He did take care of you, then?”  
  
“He’s a good man, really. Stupider than a box of rocks, just...nothing going on upstairs. But he did take care of me, while I kicked and screamed the entire time. He’ll probably way overstay his welcome, too, and I’ll only indulge in it for...two more days. I think.”   
  
_I could take care of you_ , he wanted to say, but didn’t. He strangled the jealousy coiling around his heart at the fondness she regarded Boshaw with--she had a lot of fondness, in her, and at the moment, it was directed towards a good-natured neighbor who’d been helping her with (Joseph suspected) much more than a few cracked ribs.

Although, he was waiting outside when Joseph finally left, and shouted at her, asking if he was ‘all clear to shuck his pants’.

“I’ll...call Jake when I want him off the property,” she assured, half-smiling up at Joseph.

“I’ll make sure he answers. Get some rest, Evangeline.”  
  
She nodded, and against his better judgment, he leaned over, placing a gentle hand on the back of her head and pulling her closer for a quick, chaste kiss to the temple. He withdrew quick as a snake, ignoring the way she’d taken in a breath, and the way it took her a moment to gather herself and advise him to drive safe.

__

_“You look fucking ridiculous, ange.”_

Evangeline-- seventeen-year-old Evangeline, strung up in a dark blue gown on the screen, beauty only blurred, not diluted, through the pains of the ancient VHS--rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she leaned on the banister.

 _“Don’t say that in front of gran, alright?”_ Her words rolled with a sweet honeyed drawl, and Joseph glanced over at her. She was looking at the screen in a sad way, eyes soft, subtly biting at her bottom lip from the inside. _“She worked really hard on my hair.”_

Before the cameraman could reply, an old woman came into frame, carrying something, and stepped behind her granddaughter to clasp it around her neck.

  
_“Here. Your grandfather got me this. Garnet, pearl, and gold. If you win, you get to keep it.”_   
  
Evangeline smiled, wide, craning her neck to look at her grandmother. _“Sounds like a deal, gran. Should we get going?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Yeah. Yeah--but pose. Andrew, get a good shot of her, and then take some pictures. Something to show your grandkids, one day.”_ _  
_ _  
_Andrew snorted, and Evangeline struck a pose--spine straight, one hand on her hip, white teeth exposed, chin tilted just so. The tape cut out a moment later, and she bent down, shuffling through the box between her legs until she came up with a photo. She passed it to John. Same pose, better quality--an immortalized moment in her life.

“See? Wasn’t too bad, back then.”

“Did she let you keep the pendant?”  
  
“I did win, didn’t I? It’s in my fire safety box. And here is me--with my trophy.” She summoned another picture--that one, John took and immediately handed to Joseph. Same dress, but with a sparkling tiara and a tall trophy, a peach at the top. She was embracing her grandmother, who was grinning at the trophy.

“She was very proud of you, wasn’t she?” He asked, chuckling.

“She was a pageant queen. It’s how she met my grandfather. She always said...that’s how I’d get me a man. That pageant smile.”  
  
“Show us,” Faith urged, grinning. Evangeline sighed, wiped all expression from her face, and then recreated the expression _perfectly._ Nearly her own smile, but wider, more intent.

“As lovely as it is, I think I prefer your genuine smile.”

  
“Well, then.” Her expression softened. “I mean...I tried. No one can say I didn’t. Could’ve been a real catch. I could’ve been a trophy wife.”   
  
“Is that something to idealize?” John drawled.

“No. I’m just saying. Poor grandma, all that work for nothing.” She took the photograph back, gingerly, and Joseph smiled.   
“Thank you for sharing this with me. With us.” He curled his fingers around her hand. “We must submit to being known, before we can be loved. I’m afraid I’m at a disadvantage. I’m an open book. So to speak.”   
  
“I’m sure there’s plenty I have no clue about,” she said, quietly. He squeezed her hand.

“Would you like to hear about it?” She tilted her head, and he stood, keeping hold of her. “Let’s go for a walk.”

__

Joseph wasn’t a shy man in general, but there were some details she'd never heard before, about his wife. How she was the first good thing in his life, the light that showed him his faith. She felt his heartbreak, too, and tightened her fingers around his hand as they walked aimlessly down the river, straying further and further from the ranch with each step.

“I’m sorry you lost her,” she admitted, looking out at the water. He was looking at her, only at her.

  
“It was His will. I regret nothing about our time together, but...I do believe it was a mistake, to marry her.”   
  
“Neither of us waited for each other. I’ve done...a lot more. It’s part of why John and I connected, so well, so early. When you feel like nobody ever really loved you, it’s preferable to take the bed warmed by a body. Even if you wake up guilty.” She looked up at him. “Joseph, I’m not _good_ . I just don’t know how I’m supposed to help you, I can barely help myself.”   
  
“You’ve been searching for something, haven’t you? In men, in women, in...empty bottles, in sleeping pills. In war. In peace.”   
  
“I thought I found it, here.”   
  
“But something was missing. Is missing. Isn’t it?”   
  
“And is it you?” She looked at him, finally. “I don’t think you were missing _anything_ , Joseph. I don’t want to be another lost soul for you to wrangle.”   
  
“If you truly believe that I’m not missing anything, I suppose I’ve been doing my job too well.” It was his turn to look away. “I didn’t wait for you, child, but I have been waiting for you. God has spoken to me. I’m not sure that you believe it, yet, but it’s true. You are my promised partner. My aid, my reward--a beacon to see me to the end of my mission, for me to cherish here and in Eden. I know that that must startle you. But it is _all_ of you that I’ve been waiting for. Your love, your intelligence--your uncertainty, your wrath, your fear. I’ve come to know you well, in these last few months. You can’t will yourself to believe something. You need to surrender to it, completely, and you can’t do that alone. You need help.”   
  
“So we help each other, then,” she muttered, tears pricking at her eyes for...god knows why. He smiled down at her. He frowned, slightly, when she saw her damp gaze, and paused, turning. He reached up to cup her face, but she turned away, closing her eyes, forcing a smile. She looked almost...pained.

“I know you have a lot of love to give, Joseph,” she whispered, still cringing away from his touch. “But I don’t know how to take it.”

“Patiently, I hope,” he said, connecting once again, smiling when she turned into it, tears rolling down and catching on his fingers.

**__**

“You can’t seriously be considering it. It’s not happening.”  
  
“It’s happening,” she confirmed, zipping up her jacket. “Just stopped by to let Joseph know I’d be out of town, and to give him that phone. As a courtesy.”   
  
“Well, as a courtesy,” John pressed, while Joseph stared, dumbfounded, at the flip phone she’d pressed into his hand with a kiss to his cheek, “put down your suitcase and _think_ .”   
  
“I won’t get into any fights. But--a new nephew. I’ve gotta go meet them. Would you miss it, if Jacob had a wife that suddenly popped out a kid?”   
  
“If the last time I saw him, Jacob beat me into a stupor, then--”   
  
“John’s right,” Joseph said, brain finally re-organizing itself. “But you should go. If it’s important to you.”   
  
“...okay? How about--alright, I know, John--I’ll invite Sharky. I can take him with me, he’ll do it for two hundred bucks and room and board.”   
  
“Unacceptable.”   
  
“Listen, since we are family, I’ve tried to stop saying _fuck you, I do what I want, eat dicks_ , but you’re really pushing your luck, here.”   
  
“I’ll come,” Joseph interjected, before John could fire back, probably with something about _wrath_ . “I’m afraid I can only give you a few days, but if you’d let me…”   
  
“I couldn’t ask that of you, Joseph. You’re a busy man. They need you here.” She shifted. “And I don’t...I don’t think it’s a good idea. I don’t think you and Andy would get along.”   
  
“Neither do I. I would never dream of hurting you. Just a few days, and I’ll be back to give the Sunday sermon. My siblings can take care of things that long.”   
  
"Joseph, are you sure that that's the best--" John's anxious start was silenced with a single look, and he forced a smile. "Absolutely. I'll order your tickets.    
  
“Tickets?”   
  
“Well, we want you two to have to most time to spend with your family, right? Now--would you prefer a three-day drive or a three-hour flight?”   
  
“...I’ll go dig up my coffee can.”   
  
“No need to withdraw from your _savings account_ . This has been taken out of your hands, I’m afraid.”   
  
“You can’t hurt him, Joseph. I know you won’t, but I’m just telling you, you can’t. And you...probably shouldn’t talk to him, because he might try to hurt you. You might have to stay in the car. Nevermind. Nevermind, I’ll just...stay. I’ll just stay.” She wiped a hand across her face and walked out of the room. Joseph told John to buy the tickets, and went out to speak with her.

In the early autumn chill, he told her he knew how important family was, and assured her that everything would be fine, that he understood things were complicated. She wasn’t convinced, but agreed--two days, home in time to recover from jet lag before Sunday. By the time they were packing the car, he’d negotiated it to three days, on the basis that he didn’t really get jet-lag, and wanted her to return with him if he wasn’t sure she’d be safe.

\--  
  
Joseph was surprised all at once by the allowances he was willing to make for her without even sparing it a thought. He was sitting on an airplane, for one, and her lips were still painted red. He was leaving his flock, but somehow, didn’t feel as though it was wrong. Equally as important as guiding them as the father was showing their mother her way--and she was still biting her lip, leg jiggling nervously. She didn’t want him there, not really--he was sure part of her did, but she was worried, and guilty. She felt his place was in Hope County.

He needed to show her that _her_ place was in Hope County as well. Even if that meant putting on dark sunglasses, and borrowing one of John's coats, so that he could flick up the collar. Nothing too deliberate--and if she noticed, which he doubted, she didn't comment on it. 

She closed her eyes when the touched down, letting her head rest against the seat. “Lord have mercy,” she sighed.

“Are you alright?”  
  
“No. But yes. Yes, I will be.”   
  
“Your brother will have one thing to bond over, at least,” he said, following her out of their seat and grabbing their shared carry-on before she could. She hummed, and he smiled. “We both love you.”   
  
Instead of blushing and laughing, like he’d hoped, she snorted, already turning away. “You think my brother loves me?”   
  
His eyes widened, slightly, but she paid him no attention, taking his hand to lead him onward.

__  
  
“You look very handsome,” she noted, as she adjusted the rearview mirror. Her expression was passive, the firm set of her lips and wide, dark sunglasses covering any emotion. “Street clothes.”   
  
“Thank you. What are you so nervous about?”   
  
“He’s not happy I’m part of the project. He’s really pissed off about it, and he doesn’t want it around his family. The fact that you’re a good man, my soulmate--won’t matter. You’re not Catholic.”   
  
“Catholics hold soulmates above all else, don’t they?”   
  
“They do. But since he and his soulmate split up, he’s been less...preachy, about me finding my other half.”   
  
“Did you tell him I was coming?”   
  
“Kind of. I got the soulmate part out, but he pushed me off the phone before I could explain the rest. We’ll have to see. You might want to...hang back, for a minute. I’m going to lay it all out. We might be going right back home.”   
  
He offered his hand on the console, and she held it, leaning back, relaxing, slightly, keeping one hand on the wheel.

__

The Jones family home was a tall, white-washed thing, with a porch newer than the shutters, and miles and miles of orchard stretching out behind it. Not ten seconds after their car pulled up, the door opened.

  
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck, fuck,” she began, unbuckling her seatbelt and stepping out hurriedly. Joseph followed at a _normal_ pace, taking long strides to catch up with her as she speed-walked up to her brother.

Andrew Jones was tall and broad. He had a serious face, and Evangeline’s same honey brown eyes. He stood with his arms crossed, mouth set in a firm line.

 

“Andrew,” she greeted, putting a hand through Joseph’s arm to make him stop with her. “Good to see you. This is--”  
  
“Didn’t mention it was the _father,_ on the phone.” He had a sharp southern drawl, and Joseph wondered why she’d taken the pains to get rid of hers.

  
“I was going to, but you were in a rush. You recognize him, then?”   
  
“Yeah. Looked into it after last time. Got a facebook page, saw it at the library. Fucking holy justice _you_ got stuck with a jacked up pastor.”   
  
“If you disrespect my soulmate, Andrew, I’m not staying.” Her voice wavered, and Joseph spared a glance at her. She was holding onto him tightly--she wasn’t standing as straight, wasn’t really looking at her brother, either. Not in his eyes, at least.

“You look just like mom. You know that?” Her jaw tightened.

“Yes, I thought you’d say that.”  
  
“Well. No preaching in my house, and I won’t _disrespect_ your soulmate. Or you. No need to repeat last time, right?”   
  
“Right,” she sighed, releasing Joseph so that she could step up onto the porch, meeting her brother for an embrace. He slapped her hand on the back, eyes still on Joseph.

\--

“So.” Missy smiled, crossing her legs under the table. “How did you two meet?”  
  
“He’s the...pastor, of her church,” Andrew explained. “Weird one. Guess the fathers can get married.”   
  
“Oh, marriage--are you two planning your wedding, yet?”   
  
“Not yet,” Evangeline murmured, focused on the baby in her arms. “Joseph’s a really busy man. It’s a really involved congregation.”   
  
“Well--you know, you’ve been in that church up there for a while--you’re just now getting together?”   
  
“Providence,” Joseph explained, with a warm smile. “I was very blessed to of found your sister at all. I don’t mind having had to wait.”   
  
“Well, isn’t he a charmer,” Missy laughed. “None of my business, but I think y’all should get hitched as soon as possible.”   
  
“You are getting on in years, angel,” Andrew noted, gaze flicking over to Joseph. “Gonna marry her, aren’t you?”   
  
“I would very much like that, yes. I don’t mind waiting, again.”   
  
“What’re you waiting for? End of the world?”   
  
“Andrew,” she reminded, still soft, running the back of her finger over the baby’s cheek. “Please.”

“You’ve gotta work on locking him down, sis. Sure there’s plenty of women scrambling to get at him. Hell--he should put a ring on you, get you settled in the house. Keep you from tripping into anyone. If he can.”  
  
She didn’t respond, but smiled when the baby yawned, mouth stretching wide.

“Aww, look,” Missy laughed. “Yep. Bout that age, Vince, gonna start going baby crazy. ‘Specially now that you found the one you want.”  
  
“All in good time, right? Missy, how are you feeling?”   
  
“A lot better now it’s over. We wanna hear about you, shug. Your man. How’s the shop doing?”   
  
“It’s good. Joseph’s really the only new thing in my life.”   
  
“And he’s not even that new, right, sis?” Andrew leaned back. “Tomorrow morning, we’re having her baptized. You’re not coming.”   
  
“Andy--” Missy began, earning a hard look.

“It’s a time for us and ours to welcome her into the church. She’s not a part of that. She’s made that perfectly clear by bringing him here.”  
  
“Okay,” Evangeline allowed, not even sparing a moment to argue. “Thank you for letting us come.”   
  
“Of _course_ , honey,” Missy said, smiling. “But...you know, maybe try not to bring it up around the kids.”   
  
“If I catch him talking to my kids, you’re finished,” Andrew clarified. “Am I understood?”   
  
“Yes, Andrew. I understand.”   
  
The demure quality her tone had taken on made Joseph’s stomach tighten uncomfortably, and he as much as sat out the rest of the conversation.

__  
  
“That went really, really well,” she announced, fanning a sheet over the air mattress. They were set up in the attic--in a single, solitary clear space in the attic, where she’d arranged the mattress and was presently making it up, while Joseph leaned on the wall. “Are you satisfied, now?”   
  
“Satisfied?”   
  
“You were worried. Are you still--”   
  
“Yes.”

She let out a short sigh. “I am sorry.”  
  
“As am I.”   
  
__

“Auntie, C'mon!”

Joseph was watching from the porch as Evangeline was swarmed--nieces and nephews hanging off of all of her limbs, squealing as she swung them around and tickled them in shifts.

Andrew wasn’t too far away, watching as well, but for different reasons.

  
“She doesn’t think you love her,” Joseph said, not looking at the man.

“I don’t have to love her. She’s my sister.” He shifted back in his rocking chair. “Guess she went crawling to you, right?”  
  
“It’s how she found out we were soulmates.”   
  
“Well. You’re welcome, then. She’s not a virgin, y’know.”   
  
“We know everything, Andrew.”   
  
“Don’t see how someone so holy could abide by it, ‘s all.”   
  
“Nor do I see how you could hurt her. In a million years.”   
  
“She’s tough. Had to be, with our old man. Got the easier side of it, too.”

“And you had to make up for it, I assume?”  
  
“I’ll send you both out on your asses. _Father_ or not.” 

He turned his attention back to Evangeline, who crumpled to the ground, shouting something about being ‘overpowered by stinky feet’. The image stuck with him, just like the image of her smiling at the child in her arms--just like most images of her stuck with him.

__  
  
Being a united force with Evangeline was an electric and unfamiliar--and absolutely addictive--experience. He knew she was terrified of her brother, it was never more obvious, but he still enjoyed how she pressed against him. Shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip--even relaxed, slightly, when he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer.

They’d shared a child-babble filled dinner, and then an evening where she laid on a dusty old sofa and he was alone on the air mattress--and then, they stood so close they were a single entity, watching the family clatter off in their truck, en route to church for a baptism. She sighed once they were out of sight, and looked up at him.

“Care for a tour?”  
  
__

Evangeline had inherited the house, but she’d given it to Andrew, along with most of the money her grandmother had left. She got...some jewelry, a set of china, and a few paintings.

She showed Joseph the hallway she’d have her chain-smoking runway lessons in, her bedroom, the secret passage to nowhere in the kitchen. Her mood picked up with each new room, until she was pulling him out into the orchard. Peaches, of course--they’d both spent some summers working up and down lines of trees. He remembered the heat on his back, she remembered the scent of the trees blossoming, and neither begrudged the other their sentiments.

She spoke about her grandma, and indistinctly about her mother. The good memories, and the bad--the porch was newer because, she confessed, she’d broken it when her brother threw her into it. She was fifteen. He’d caught her smoking, and she broke her arm and was then made to help him rebuild it.

Joseph nearly kissed her beneath a nearly bare tree, but lost whatever nerve he’d gathered, lips meeting her cheekbone instead.

__

“That’s it,” she announced, setting down one last plate of fried chicken. “Last one.”  
  
“Looks good, sis,” Andrew allowed, earning a bright smile. She shucked her apron, and Joseph pulled her chair out for her. “Alright. Mason, Beverly, Chris, Joanna--all of you, we’re saying grace. Hold hands and bow your heads. Angel. You go on ahead.”

Joseph took her hand, and she closed her eyes, and said a traditional Catholic grace while squeezing his fingers. He squeezed back.

Conversation flowed around him. Joseph mostly thought, trying to ignore the sharp jabs Andrew constantly threw his sister. He was more than glad that his brothers were there for her--would never consider her and John’s bickering ‘hostile’, not after knowing what she went through in her own home.

That night, once he thought she was asleep, he slid off of the horrible, horrible air mattress, and slowly, slowly pulled her up into his arms. She shifted awake, blinked up at him, and then looped her arms around his neck.

She sighed his name, and he trembled as he carried her to her proper place. She was already asleep again by the time he wrapped his arms around her from behind, pressing his nose into her hair while he cried.

 _You’ve been lied to,_ he wanted to tell her. _How could they make you think you didn’t deserve love_?

Ah, but it wasn’t hard to believe. He’d been told the same lie, had it beaten into his soul. He knew it wasn’t true, and now, held no more trepidation about her rejecting him, as well. It was in her smiles, the way she poured coffee, all the tentative times she’d taken his hand-- _trying_. The best he could ever ask of her, the most she could give him.

On the evening of their third day, Joseph put their bags in the car and watched Andrew step closer to her, take her by the shoulders and _shake_ her. Her head bobbed as though she’d gone limp, and he leered over her, while she kept her hands firmly at her sides.

He wasn’t entirely processing his actions. He did know he cleared the distance between them _quickly_ , and pressed a firm hand against Andrew’s chest, pushing him back. The man was so startled that he went, eyes widening.

“ _Joseph_ ,” Evangeline breathed. He came back into himself just as Andrew Jones jerked forward, ready for a fight. “No! No! Andrew, enough!” She stepped between them, pushing Joseph back.

Andrew Jones was tall, and broad, but Evangeline Jones was a marine, who spent enough time with Jacob that she’d learned a few more tricks since. Additionally, Andrew Jones was used to putting his hands on her when she was limp, so thankful and affectionate and _good_ that she never did anything back to him. He was on the ground clutching his side, legs pressed closed, in records chair.

“You don’t _fucking_ touch him!” She snarled. “It’s _enough_ .”   
  
“Get the fuck off my property,” he said, through his teeth.

“ _Gladly_ . Missy--” she called to the woman standing in the doorway, a hand over her mouth. “If you get sick of him smacking you, threatening your kids, it’s Hope County. There’s a place for you in the project. But unless you’re gonna apologize and _promise_ to keep your hands off my soulmate, Andrew, there will never be any room for you.” She swallowed. “Missy, I _will_ help you, if you need me to. I’m sorry I didn’t offer sooner.”   
  
“Get the _fuck_ off my property!” Andrew roared, even as he curled in on himself. Evangeline stormed to the car, and slid into the passenger's seat. She was already crying by the time Joseph started the car.

__  
  
“...would you like to talk about it?” He asked. She was staring out the window.

“Not really.”  
  
“Can we?”   
  
“I just...thought about it. Him starting a fight. Putting his hands on you when you came to help. Because of _me_ . I lost it. I never...I never hit back, never once...but he can’t...he can’t do that to you.”   
  
“You were worried, about me?”   
  
“I’ve never seen you fight,” she said, offhandedly. “But it doesn’t matter. Yes. And I don’t know _why_ it mattered more than Andrew, but it did. You did. You do.” She shook her head. “I don’t really understand it. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“...why did he put his hands on you?”  
  
“He was trying to convince me to leave you. And the project. He said it wasn’t safe. Said he heard some things.”   
  
“And you didn’t believe him.”   
  
“We’re going to have words about the things he claimed to of heard, Joseph.” Her voice sharpened, slightly. “But honestly, I’m too tired to worry about it. I just burned a bridge I can never get back. I’d do it again. Do you know who you are, Joseph?”

He didn’t know how to answer that. So, he didn’t, and they enjoyed silence for the rest of their journey.

He left her on her porch, and had no clue what to do from there. Was she angry? Upset? Was she in need of something? _What_ was he meant to do to help her?

She paused, and watched him struggle--and then pulled him down by the lapels of his coat and kissed him on the mouth. He tasted blood, ran his tongue over sores bitten into the inside of her lips.

He could’ve easily picked her up, pressed her against her own front door, sought further. Would have, if she hadn’t pulled away, breathing heavy, head tipped down.

“Are you taking people by force, Joseph?” She asked. And he opened his mouth, that tasted like her blood and her red lipstick,

and he lied to her,

and she knew that,

 

and she kissed him again.


End file.
